


Snap and Crackle, Son and Pop

by impossiblepluto



Series: Project Gemini [3]
Category: MacGyver (TV 2016)
Genre: Angst, Father-Son Relationship, Flashbacks, Fluff, Found Family, Fourth of July, Gemini AU, Gen, No Plot, PTSD, Parental Jack Dalton (MacGyver TV 2016), child!Mac (except not because the child is AJ), small reference to episode 2x04 X-ray + Penny
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-05
Updated: 2020-07-05
Packaged: 2021-03-04 23:06:50
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,889
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25094329
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/impossiblepluto/pseuds/impossiblepluto
Summary: The date has a way of sneaking up on him. As soon as the summer days hit, it’s in the back of his mind, a countdown and a contingency plan, and then all of a sudden he’s four days into July, the entire world smells like a barbeque, and he’s dreading nightfall.AKA: the one with Fourth of July fluff and angst.Set in the Project Gemini Universe
Relationships: Jack Dalton & AJ MacGyver, Jack Dalton & Angus MacGyver (MacGyver TV 2016)
Series: Project Gemini [3]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1817443
Comments: 32
Kudos: 40





	Snap and Crackle, Son and Pop

**Author's Note:**

> This story is a slice of life sequel to my Project Gemini AU. It would be helpful to read that first. I would also highly recommend checking the stories of my partner in crime, the lovely violetvaria:  
> [Diners and Dads, Stories and Sons](https://archiveofourown.org/works/24098329)  
> [Days and Dads, Surprises and Sons](https://archiveofourown.org/works/24825283)
> 
> Her insights into the relationship between Jack + AJ, Mac + AJ, and Mac + Jack astound me and I'm so grateful that she wanted to play in this sandbox with me! The best AJ nicknames in this fic were shamelessly stolen from her stories.

Jack feels the force of the explosion rumble through his chest.

Damn. 

He’d hoped to be long past the outskirts of town by this time, far down the road and out of earshot. There’s still a touch of pink low on the horizon. They got started earlier than he was expecting. 

The date has a way of sneaking up on him. As soon as the summer days hit, it’s in the back of his mind, a countdown and a contingency plan, and then all of a sudden he’s four days into July, the entire world smells like a barbeque, and he’s dreading nightfall. 

Having Mac made it better. A second brain ticking off the calendar when the jetlag and crossing the International Dateline makes him lose track of days, though if he could spare the kid the pain and the PTSD, he would give anything to make that a reality. It's not fair. The kid can whip up some whopper fireworks that put any professional shows to shame. On a few occasions, when they made it down to the Ranch in time for the holiday, far away from the rest of civilization so that the booms of other fireworks couldn't surprise him, he's done just that.  


Watching Mac set off his own explosions doesn't trigger either of them. Maybe it's because Mac is controlling it, and Jack trusts him. Or maybe it's the absolute glee on his face that Jack doesn't get to see often enough.

If they were home in LA, which more often than not, they weren’t - because, what better day to cause mayhem in the rest of the world than when the old Red, White, and Blue was celebrating her birthday and generally causing a ruckus - they camped out in Mac’s living room, watching Will Smith kick some alien butt with noise-canceling headphones cranked loud enough that Jack could pretend the growl he felt in the floorboards was just the high def sound system.

And if that wasn’t enough, and the darkness started creeping in, Mac was there to talk him down. 

Or vice versa. 

Talk him through the booms. Through the flashbacks so real he threw Mac to the ground and jumped on top of him, covering him with his body. Out of the memories when they became too much and the tears wouldn’t stop. 

Eventually, the world goes to sleep, the fireworks slow and then stop and they make their way outside, the air hazy with smoke, explosive residue tickles his nose. Mac lights a fire to cover up the scent. And they sit there til the sun comes up. Sometimes raising a glass in honor of friends and brothers who never made it home. Lost in memories, the good and the bad. 

Being grateful, despite the horrors they witness that they found each other.

Thankful for each day. 

And sometimes, Mac talks him out of his conspiracy theory of why two different Hemsworth brothers made Will Smith movie sequels. Sometimes he eggs on the discussion. 

He wonders if Mac let the day sneak up on him this year. If he’s on a mission out of the country and oblivious to the date. Or at home on the deck, which he’s hopefully found time to rebuild in the last few months, with his friends surrounding him. Over the years, Bozer and Riley came to understand how difficult this day could be for them, finding the delicate balance of offering support and giving space. Desi can commiserate with the thoughts running through Mac’s heads. She’s got her own demons to deal with. 

He thought he’d be home this year. After pulling the trigger and finally putting Kovacs down, his only thought was of going home, wrapping Mac up in a hug, grabbing a beer, and never leaving that fire pit again. He was planning on living right there on the deck for the next decade or so. He never thought he’d return to their base camp a few hours later and find a message from Mac and another mission. 

Maybe his most challenging yet.

His eyes flash to the mirror, checking on the boy asleep in the backseat, surprisingly unaffected by the fireworks dancing across the sky. Jack wonders if there was ever a time he slept that easily. If there was ever a time that Mac did. 

Not that he begrudges AJ that. He’s a growing boy and needs his sleep and Jack knows he doesn’t get nearly enough in a bed like a normal kid. Their nomad, on-the-run lifestyle doesn't allow for that. And he knows nightmares shake him awake, though the frequency is lessening and the severity dissipating. Instead of jolting awake and unable to find slumber again, AJ’ll scoot his little cocoon closer, tuck himself under Jack’s arm, and be fast asleep before he has time to finish his yawn. 

Another snap and crackle and pop sounds before the colors paint the sky.

A smile quirks across Jack’s lips as the noise echoes the slogan of AJ’s newest cereal discovery. His little genius is quickly making his way through the cereal aisle at the grocery store. Jack’s pretty sure the boy would live on cereal if he let him. He’s amazed by the different textures, flavors, colors. To Jack’s surprise, he likes craisin -but not raisin- topped cereals better than the marshmallow filled boxes which would have been Jack’s choice at that age.

Or... now. He’s got a sweet tooth. He's not ashamed of it. He’s saved the world enough times that he’s allowed an indulgence once in a while. If he wants to eat crunchy marshmallows out of a box for breakfast that’s his prerogative. 

Jack couldn’t help the grin when AJ picked out the blue box with the little elves on the front - making his way through cereal brands in a systematic order only he knew. Or the one that he tried to keep from spreading across his face after he helped AJ pour milk into his bowl. A moment later the cereal lived up to its slogan and AJ canted his head, staring intently at the bowl. 

It’s hard to rank the adorably confused and expressions of wonder that cross his face when AJ comes across new and exciting things the pique his interest, but this is one of Jack’s newest favorites. His brow furrowing and cocking his head back in the other direction before he looked up at Jack.

“How does it do that?” 

And knowing his actual baby Einstein’s propensity for questions and thirst for knowledge, he’d waited until AJ drifted off to dreamland in his sleep sack before googling the answer. 

Several bowls of cereal were sacrificed for science and AJ devoured the article they found, written by a food scientist from the University of Minnesota - “the capital is St. Paul,” AJ announced, excited as always to continue their road trip game and share what he’s learned from Jack’s atlas, tracing state boundary lines. “The Mississippi River starts in Minnesota. We haven’t been there yet.” Normally, this would launch AJ into innumerable questions, has Jack been there? Has he seen the Mississippi River? Why was he there? Was Mac with him? 

This time though, AJ plunges ahead with questions about physics and molecules and riveting discussions about popcorn kernels and blown glass that has Jack shaking his head in amazement. Where does the kid learn this stuff?

Lost in thought the next boom catches him by surprise. The ground beneath them rattles. The vehicle shimmies and shakes. Jack grips the wheel, trying to hold himself steady. The car rocks onto the shoulder as a series of pops erupt across the sky. 

Snapping. Crackling. Popping. 

He slams on the breaks. His breaths coming in sharp gasps. 

Eyes wide and unseeing. The cedar forest on either side of the highway giving way to sand and rock and dirt. 

The easy camaraderie fractures as Mac’s grin turns into a warning shout. Jack doesn’t know what Mac saw. He missed it. Relaxed. Enjoying Mac’s company. The heat of the day cooling. Drifting away after too long roasting in the sun. 

His job is to protect Mac and he missed it. The break in the sand. The spark of a trigger. The flash of an ignition. Some clue that he should have noticed. That he could have used to stop this. He should have protected them.

Mac saw it though. His training saving their lives. He yells for Jack to watch out.

Jack cranks the wheel hard. Acting on trust and instinct. The bulky Humvee feels sluggish. A flare shimmers in his eyes.

He throws out a hand, connecting with Mac’s chest as the vehicle jolts, flipping onto two wheels.

It hovers. 

Rocks. 

Debates defying gravity and physics before turning, end over end. Crashing into the sand. 

Blinding heat surges against his skin. 

The hot breath of flames lick his neck. 

The crumple of metal. The screech and protest of a several ton vehicle being tossed like a child’s toy in a tantrum.

Glass explodes inward. Peppering his face. Clinking against his sunglasses.

Ears buzzing, h is screams echo in them.

The Humvee rocks to a halt. 

Jack gasps. Adrenaline shakes through his. His voice cracks. 

“Mac?” 

There’s no answer. 

“Mac!” 

Jack turns to the passenger seat. Horror fills him. It's worse than his expectation of seeing Mac unconscious, hanging limply from the seat belt as an explanation for his silence, with blood leaking from under his helmet. 

Instead, he’s missing. 

His breath comes in short gasps. The heat reflecting against the sand replaced by hot asphalt and skyscrapers. His camo replaced by TAC. The beige humvee by the imposing black of the Phoenix TAC rover. 

The explosion, a distraction. He saw the black trenchcoat a second before a veil dropped over his vision. 

Murdoc. 

He was prepared. Waiting for them

This whole ordeal was a trap. A game to him, like it always is.  


He allowed Mac to get away. When there was no trail for Jack to chase, no clue to run with, nothing but sitting and waiting and praying. 

He let Mac escape. Let him save himself. Prove to Jack that if Murdoc got his hands on him, there was nothing he could do to save his kid. Taunting and teasing. Mac’s safe return to him was a gift. And one Murdoc could snatch back at any moment. 

And he did. 

Murdoc grabbed Mac again. While Jack was out. Inches away and he still couldn’t stop it. Pinned by the bodywork meant to protect them. 

Jack can still hear the final, taunting notes of “Home on the Range” fading away.

He can’t lose Mac again. Not to Murdoc. Not like this without a clue or a sign. Not when it was a miracle he was returned safe and unharmed the last time. 

“Jack?” The voice is higher than he expected, even for the nineteen-year-old Mac he met in the Sandbox, before it deepened to the timbre he knows now. It’s softer.

It’s scared. 

It wakes Jack from the nightmares competing in his brain. From the monsters only he can see. 

It’s AJ. And he’s scared. Scared because of Jack. Because Jack was yelling. Crying for Mac and ignoring AJ.  


Tears fill Jack’s eyes. 

Another firework display lights up the interior of the car. 

Jack tightens his shaking hands into fists, pushing them against the steering wheel, sucking in heaving breaths.  _ Get it together, Dalton.  _ His boy needs him. 

It’s been a while since he’s lost time in a flashback. Normally, predicting his triggers and avoiding them, or acknowledging them is enough to stall a full-blown regression into darkness.

It’s the first one he’s had since he got home. The first one AJ’s ever seen. Jack doesn’t sleep deeply enough to permit the nightmares to come, ever on alert even in the midnight hours. 

All that is for nothing because the terrors still came. And he still scared the boy. 

Jack draws a tremulous breath. “It’s okay. It’s okay Ma- AJ. It’s okay.”

“Jack?”

The click of the seat belt release succeeds in bringing Jack fully back to the present, chasing away the last tendrils of nightmares. The adrenaline coursing through him is harder to shake, and makes his voice rough as he turns around in his seat, facing his young charge. 

“What have I told you about undoing your seat belt, young man?” 

Calling it a battle between them is disingenuous. Jack needs only raise his eyebrow and the boy listens. Obeys reluctantly, perhaps in anger and frustration at times, but he's so desperate for Jack's approval that he rarely causes trouble.   


AJ hates the car seat, Jack knows. The sharp intake of breath the first time Jack strapped him in was almost enough for him to decide they would settle down, hide out in a small town somewhere and AJ would never have to get in a car again. They would walk everywhere. Maybe he'd strap AJ to his back in some sort of sling so his little legs didn't get tired when they walked across town to the store.  


It breaks Jack’s heart to wonder why a child has such a visceral reaction to being confined. 

Despite his discomfiture with being strapped down, there have only been a handful of times where AJ truly fought against Jack buckling him in. Only a few tantrums and crocodile tears, which considering AJ’s history, that Jack doesn’t fully know, but can guess from seeing photographs of the lab, Mac’s repressed memories, and AJ’s nightmares, is a blessing. And the boy, upon his release from a laboratory spent more than his fair share of time in a car seat. 

AJ freezes, mid-clamber over the middle console. “But Jack! You said I could in an emergency,” AJ’s eyes are large and imploring. 

Jack nods slowly, releasing a slow and steady breath. “You’re right. I did say that.” 

He’d spent the rest of the week discussing increasingly specific “what if” situations with the boy. 

“And the car wasn’t moving, so good job obeying those directions.” Jack tugs on the wedged-between-the-seats-AJ, pulling him into the front of the car and tucking him into his lap. He fumbles for the release bar under his seat, sliding it back and giving them more room. He cradles AJ to his chest. Arms still trembling with residual stress. 

AJ leans his head against Jack’s chest, tapping his finger in time with Jack’s heartbeat pulsing under his cheek. 

It makes Jack realize how far from okay he feels in the moment, despite his promise to AJ that everything is alright.

Pressing his nose into AJ’s hair, he takes a deep breath, anything to ground himself in the moment. 

“Hey, firecracker, can you do me a favor?” Jack waits until AJ looks up at him. “Count by fives for me.”

AJ twists his neck, looking up at Jack. “Why?”

“Just for practice.”

“Fives aren't even hard, though.”

“Well, maybe I just want to hear your voice.” 

AJ quirks an eyebrow at Jack and his actually-not-so-random request, sighs a long-suffering sigh, that reminds Jack so much of Mac that it makes his chest ache, and begins to count. The sweet little voice washes over him and Jack mouths the words too. 

It’s something he made Mac do when the kid was having a flashback. Recite the alphabet backward. Or when Jack needed the kid’s voice to anchor him, have him rattle off the periodic table. Count by eighteens, when they were separated and he needed to assess over comms if the breathy quality to Mac’s voice was the aftermath of adrenaline or the result of an injury he was trying to get away with hiding.

“Eighty-five, ninety, ninety-five, one hundred! How high, Jack?”

“Wow, one hundred already,” Jack snuggles AJ closer. "Guess that's pretty good."  


AJ squirms in Jack’s arms and he thinks maybe the boy is trying to free himself from Jack’s embrace. While AJ is quicker to reciprocate a hug than Mac ever was, or initiate one himself even, some days confinement is difficult, whether the car seat, the sleep sack, or even Jack’s hugs and Jack does what he can to minimize AJ’s distress. 

Reluctantly, Jack relaxes his grip. AJ wiggles and Jack expects him to scramble away into the passenger seat, staying within arm’s reach but giving himself space. Instead, AJ sits up on his knees, wriggling around to face Jack and it’s Jack’s turn to squirm as he avoids bony joints digging into delicate parts of his anatomy. 

Blue eyes look into brown and then AJ’s arms wrap tightly around Jack’s neck. One hand against the back of Jack’s head, the way Jack would hug AJ if he was distressed. 

Jack’s heart is filled to bursting at AJ’s mimicry. Learning from Jack social cues and how to offer comfort. 

“I’m sorry,” AJ whispers. 

Jack raises an eyebrow. “Nothing for you to be sorry for, Apple Jacks. I’m sorry I scared ya. Do you want-”

“You wanted Mac.” 

_ Oh _ . The words are said simply. If he wasn’t so familiar with this particular cadence, he’d have missed it. The edge. The hurt. Both his boys, betrayed by people he should be able to trust. So quick to believe that he is not enough. 

“Oh munchkin…”

“I’m… I’m not Mac.”

“Sweetheart,” Jack chokes. He’s failing at this. He’s failing Mac. He’s failing AJ. How does he raise a tiny little genius who, under a microscope is Mac. Who smiles Mac’s smile, and laughs Mac’s laugh. Who looks at him with eyes and an expression that Jack’s seen watching him for the last ten years, but isn’t Mac. Is his own, special, wonderful person. 

“AJ,” Jack gently loosens the boy's arms, pulling him forward so he can look into his eyes. “I don’t want you to be Mac. I don’t want you to be anyone but my Angus J.”

AJ’s eyes drop. “You yelled for him.”

“Yeah,” Jack nods, running a hand through his prickly fauxhawk, debating how to proceed. Somehow he thought raising a tiny Mac would be easier. Fewer mistakes to be made, especially since he’s had all these years of practice.

There he goes again. Messing this up. 

Not Mac. AJ.

Mac is Mac.

AJ is AJ. 

“I’m sorry,” AJ whispers again.  


“No, AJ, I -” It’s so much more complicated than Jack ever expected. He looks down into those blue eyes he loves so much. And yet, it’s so much easier than he ever thought possible when he tucked the boy into the backseat of the car for the first time and drove away. He was ready to do anything to protect this boy, for Mac. But in the depths of his soul, hidden so no one, not even he could see it, he worried that he wouldn't be able to love him. That he would resent being taken away from Mac and stuck with some sort of copy of his kid.  


But now...

He loves this boy so much that he thinks his heart might actually burst.

“I miss Mac a lot,” Jack admits. AJ will know if he’s lying. He’s too smart for his own good. “I wish he could be with us. Or we could be at home in Los Angeles with him. Do you remember being at his house?”

AJ nods. “I was only there a few days.”

“You would love it. The two of you together would probably give me a heart attack but you’d have so much fun with him.”

“He showed me how to build a fire.”

“See what I mean?” Jack chuckles wetly. “I'd be stuck running zone defense while you two scamps would run circles around me… I mean, that the two of you would work together to out-think me.” Jack says when he sees the question forming on AJ’s lips. 

He can see by the ‘v’ between AJ’s brows that his explanation didn’t do much to clarify the idiom but he doesn’t want this discussion to get bogged down when he still has a few points to make. 

“As much as I might miss Mac sometimes, all the time, that doesn’t change how I feel about you. I love you, AJ. I might not have had you very long, but now I don’t even want to imagine my life without you in it.” 

“Even if you yell for Mac?”

"Even if I yell for Mac," Jack affirms.

AJ bites his lip, eyes dropping again.

“Remember how sometimes, you have a bad dream and you wake up yelling?” Jack waits for the small nod and blue eyes to turn towards him. “Sometimes, people can have a nightmare when they are awake.” 

He gestures to the sky where the Independence Day celebration is still in full swing, dulled behind the weight of this discussion and his desire to get it right. “The fireworks startled me. Made me think I was having a nightmare. Mac wasn’t just good at starting fires. He was good at stopping them too. So when I was dreaming and thought I was in danger I yelled for him."

"Like an instinct? Like I yell for you?"

Jack cants his head. AJ's never yelled any intelligible when he's woken from a nightmare, but in his dream, he yells for Jack.

"Yeah, like that. For a long, long time  I trusted him to keep me safe. Like you trust me to protect you.” 

AJ leans back, considering Jack’s words. Then nods. “I’m glad that I have you to protect me, Jack. And I’m glad that Mac protected you.”

“I’m a very lucky guy, cause now I’ve got Mac and you protecting me. And the two of you are the smartest, bravest guys I know.” Jack pats AJ’s chest. “C’mere.” He scoops up the boy and crawls out of the car. They’re at the edge of a park, on the far side from where the fireworks are being lit. Far enough away that the crowd is sparse and parking possible.   


AJ's already got enough fears, has picked up on a number of Jack's anxieties. Jack doesn't want to teach him any more new ones.

Jack plants AJ on the hood of the latest in their long line of vehicles and climbs up himself, leaning against the windshield. He’d never do this in one of his cars, but there’s already a lot of bodywork to do on their acquisition before it’s ready to sell. A few more dings and dents won't matter.   


AJ’s eyes are sparkling with excitement. His face awash with the colors of the overhead explosions. Blues then greens. Pinks then purples, his eyes turned skyward. “Could Mac make these?”

“Yep,” Jack says, watching AJ’s eyes dance with delight. “And maybe someday, when you’re much older, like forty, he’ll teach you.” 

“It crackles and pops like my cereal. Can Mac’s do that too?”

“They sure can.”

Despite the explosions that still rattle through his joints and blasts of color starbursting across the sky, Jack finds himself relaxing and enjoying the show. 

AJ yawns, curling up against him. Head resting on Jack’s chest, fingers tapping in time with his heartbeat.

Jack still misses Mac. He still longs for home some days. Most days. Aches to see his kid again. But right now, with his boy falling asleep next to him, there’s nowhere else he’d rather be. 


End file.
